Fingerless
by K-C916
Summary: It's been five years since Lucien's death, and since Faryen became Listener of the Dark Brotherhood. The Black Hand has been rebuilt, but Arquen cannot stand their new leader. Oneshot. Implied slash.


A/N: Just a short little one-shot. Implied slash of Lucien/OC.  
All characters belong to Bethesda Softworks.  
Faryen belongs to me.  
Other standard disclaimers here.

* * *

Damned _bastard_.  
Arquen glared at the Listener cooly as he watched that poor Khajiit, vague appraisal in his vision. That Bosmer had been their Listener for a good five years now, barely speaking to anyone save to report the Night Mother's orders or partake in idle chatter with Albinus, the Imperial Arquen had recruited after the demise of a majority of the Black Hand.  
Faryen seemed to favor the young man over the other Murderers and Slayers in these halls, though he would occasionally exchange words with Haldrec, the newest and final Speaker they had needed to regain their balance as the Dark Brotherhood's ruling organization.  
In truth, Arquen had been rather fond of Faryen at first, enthralled by his seemingly stoic silence and how nimbly he worked his bow, the well-worn gift of the deceased Ocheeva(though it had been recommended by the also late Valtieri, for the Vampire knew how Faryen fancied archery). Arquen had, at once point, managed to wring Faryen's birth out of him and had gifted him a bow far superior to Shadowhunt, yet he still insisted on using the old thing.  
It was rare to even see him around the Sanctuary nowadays, though his habits _were_ remarkably routine. She'd followed him once, but only once, and hadn't since. Arquen cast her eyes away from the other elf, leaning back against the cool stone of the training room walls, pondering quietly to herself. A few years ago, Faryen had suddenly decided to take on the surname Lachance, since, prior to that day, he had had none to speak of. She remembered well when he had told her one day, out of the blue. She wasn't sure why it was still so vivid. It wasn't something she'd usually concern herself with since it had naught to do with murder, nor the Night Mother, nor Sithis, nor any other nefarious deed, and it had happened several years ago. Perhaps it was etched into her memory still because of the fact it was one of the few things Faryen had ever said to her outside of orders given by the Night Mother, or maybe because of the hidden sadness swirling in his eyes, both the normal eye and the freak one. Or, perhaps, it was because she still shuddered as she recalled the strange, somber, barely-there smile that had graced his boyish features. It must have been just a slip up. After all, their young Listener rarely showed emotion, and even then it was only in his eyes.  
How peculiar . . . such a seasoned killer, the Listener of the Dark Brotherhood itself . . . still had the appearance of a mere child. Some adolescent punk that had no place in the world, and never would. But he did. As the Night Mother herself had said, Faryen had been marked by Sithis whilst still in the womb. It almost made her wonder who had sired him, or who his mother was. Almost.  
She didn't know if this mark itself was physical, or mental, or just spiritual. He certainly seemed to possess all three; physically, not only did his muscles shift and move beneath his skin like a panther's, adding a certain grace to all he did, but his right eye was permanently changed, and had been ever since that first dead drop Lucien had sent him out on. Arquen hummed. She remembered what it had been; she had read the order after Lucien's demise. Doubtlessly, one of the Necromancer's minions had put Faryen in a bit of a bind and, based on the lengthy scar trailing from his hairline and almost to the middle of his cheek, the skeletal creature had swung its sword down upon him. Arquen didn't know how Faryen had gotten that Necromancer to reanimate his eye alone, whether it be through some witchery or some carefully aimed threats, but the wood elf had come back with his unnerving, piercing eye and a freshly enchanted earring, along with another death under his belt.  
Faryen was attractive, though, and Arquen wasn't afraid to admit that, even if he was more than ten years her younger. In fact, if it wasn't for his detached, stand-offish personality, and that what shattered remnants were left of his heart quite obviously belonged fully to someone else(though who, she only had the faintest and most impossible of notions), she would have long since tried to woo him.

But to take on Lucien's name! Lucien!  
Even after half a decade, she was still alarmed and agitated with herself for not realizing the true traitor in the first place. She knew that was what had originally made her start disliking Faryen; he had the gall to try and replace his former mentor. He did a horrid job of it, too. The Bosmer acted nothing at all like Lucien, and the way they killed was nearly opposite(whereas Lucien discreetly reveled in it, sometimes not so discreetly, Faryen seemed unaffected). If he was going to try and mimic him, he should do a far better job!  
Arquen looked back at him, fighting back a scowl as she watched him edit the Khajiit's stance before stepping away. N'raati gave him a pleased, thankful smile as he did, looking just like a reverent child in the presence of his hero. Arquen watched the young Bosmer as he pushed past the heavy oak doors and exited the room  
The Altmer paused tentatively before following, silently stepping after him as he climbed the ladder out of the well, a secret way into and out of the Sanctuary that only the Dark Brotherhood members were aware of(and perhaps the Count of Cheydinhal. Even Arquen wasn't sure what the extent of his knowledge was). Quietly, she prowled after him, certain he was completely unaware of her presence. Faryen pushed his hood off, revealing muted coppery hair, still tied in the neat ponytail he'd sported ever since he had first met Lucien. It was a lot longer now since the last time she'd seen him with his hood down, but that had been a long while ago. He looked around, mixed eyes thankfully not catching sight of her. He took a step forward, and Arquen swore the grass withered a little under the touch of his boots. Then, deftly, he hooked his foot into the stone of the high city wall, climbing it subtly yet hastily, unseen by the weary guards idling at their posts. Eyes widening just barely, Arquen followed him still, cursing his Bosmer ability to climb nearly any surface. She spied him as she reached the top of the wall, hesitating in the woods a mere thirty feet away. Upon her landing, however, he continued on his way, maneuvering freely through the thick forest. A few times she lost track of him, only to stumble across Faryen hesitating again in a random clearing. Soon enough, the broken stone towers of Fort Farragut rose from the trees in the distance. Arquen frowned curiously. The last time she had followed the Listener, he'd gone as far south as Leyawiin, and then she'd lost him in the marshy woods swiftly.  
He didn't immediately go into the fort, rather circling around it before reaching a tree and disappearing into it. Arquen knew it well; Lucien had hollowed it out after it had been cleaved by lightning, and within it had constructed a secretive trap door into his own private lair deep within the labyrinth that was Farragut. He had filled the rest of the fort with rather territorial skeletal guardians, and it was he that had gifted the Cheydinhal Sanctuary with their bony protector.  
Faryen had, curiously enough, left the small, round iron door open, and Arquen cautiously scaled down the ladder that dangled into the room, careful to avoid disturbing the roots that hung around her like the tentacles of a sleeping beast.  
The Bosmer was standing a ways off, just standing and staring at the bed, expression invisible to Arquen for his back was to her. She smelled the nightshade before she saw the deadly flowers scattered on the bland, gray sheets, brow furrowing. Had Faryen . . . done this?  
Her suspicions were soon confirmed as Faryen reached into a small bag clipped to his belt and, from it, pulled a pale purple flower. The wood elf set it gingerly on the pillow, fingers trailing over the petals as he sank down onto his knees beside the bed. He sighed like a man many times his age, examining the fatal flora solemnly.  
And, suddenly, Faryen stared at her over his shoulder, freak eye watching her calmly. Under his surprisingly patient gaze, several things dawned on her. One, Faryen had known she was following him the entire time, and had most likely been aware of her presence the first time she had followed him past Leyawiin. He hadn't ever been hesitating in the woods, either. He'd been waiting for her to catch up.  
And . . . Faryen hadn't been trying to replace Lucien by taking on the name Lachance. He'd simply been trying to honor his memory.  
Arquen understood now who had thieved away Faryen's heart, inadvertently or not.

Lucien's favorite flower had always been nightshade.


End file.
